


The Art of Turning Things into Other Things or Whatever

by trashgoblinwizardparty



Series: August 2019 Flash Prompt Fest [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: (no promises tho), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, M/M, MAYBE there will be a continuation of this, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 12:29:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20389735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashgoblinwizardparty/pseuds/trashgoblinwizardparty
Summary: Harry develops a very inconvenient crush.





	The Art of Turning Things into Other Things or Whatever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DogStar234](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DogStar234/gifts).
  * In response to a prompt by [DogStar234](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DogStar234/pseuds/DogStar234) in the [TomarryFlashExchanges](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/TomarryFlashExchanges) collection. 

> **Prompt:**
> 
> Sirius becomes Transfiguration Professor in Harry's eight year of Hogwarts. It shortly becomes his favourite class, and he can't deal with his crush on his godfather!Professor
> 
> this is very unbetaed and also not a ship i've ever written before!

The war was over.  


Voldemort was dead. The remaining Death Eaters had been captured and were awaiting trial before the Wizengamut.  


Against all odds, Harry Potter had survived—something he was fully unprepared for.  


He was also fully unprepared to go back to Hogwarts. He would’ve been perfectly content to take Fred and George’s offer to work full-time in their shop, but Hermione wouldn’t hear of it.  


And so, that’s how Harry, Ron, Hermione, and many of their surviving year-mates found themselves back at Hogwarts for their  _ eighth _ year. (“It’s technically our seventh,” Hermione said, with an edge of scholarly panic in her voice. “We just took our gap year early, that’s all!”)  


Going back would have been less of an issue for Harry if it weren’t for the new Transfiguration professor: Sirius Black. 

* * *

Ever since Harry, armed with all three Deathly Hallows and sheer determination, successfully pulled off a very daring and heroic (in his opinion) rescue of Sirius from beyond the Veil, he’d been waging a new kind of war entirely within his own mind.  


His feelings for his Godfather, which before he was sure had been _ completely _ platonic, had now become rather more...un-platonic.  


It was even worse now that Harry was renting his own flat in Diagon Alley, and Sirius had, in increments, essentially moved in with him. Sirius was still technically the owner of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, but he spent most of his days (and nights) on the sofa in Harry’s living room.  


Harry, unused as he was to being touched in a friendly way, was still adjusting to just how very  _ tactile _ Sirius was. Every friendly thump on the shoulder, every errant brush of hands, every tight, full-body, lingering hug...well it was enough to make Harry red-faced and flustered. And instead of becoming used to the casual touches, Harry found his frustration only getting worse as time went on.  


Even the simple act of cooking together, with their shoulders brushing in the tiny kitchen while they danced around preparing a meal sent white-hot jolts of pleasure coursing down Harry’s spine. Sometimes Harry would have to rush off to his bedroom and have a wank right after dinner and leave Sirius to do the clean-up.  


Every night, Harry would valiantly pretend to not imagine that it was Sirius’ fist wrapped around his cock, Sirius’ other hand cupping his balls. Pretend it wasn’t Sirius’ name he would moan into the dark, with his face half-muffled by his pillow as he came. Afterward, he’d be shaky and still frustrated—his body may have been sated but his mind and heart ached with a cocktail of shame and longing for something that could never be. 

* * *

If Harry thought that starting school on September first would be a respite from the close-quarters of his flat and his agonized desire for Sirius he was very, very wrong.  


He had, perhaps naively, assumed McGonagall would resume teaching Transfiguration in addition to being Headmistress—he couldn’t even imagine the class being taught by anyone  _ but _ her—but that notion was shot dead in the water on his very first day in NEWT-level Transfiguration.  


He, Ron, and Hermione had just taken their seats when the door to the classroom flew open, banging against the stone wall, and in bounded a great black dog. A few girls in the front row shrieked, and shoved their chairs over in their rush to scramble backwards. The dog leapt onto the desk, knocking over books and parchment and upsetting an inkwell, and sat down. Its tongue lolled out and its tail thumped happily against the desk. It looked altogether too pleased with itself.  


Harry, still recovering from his shock, looked over to find Hermione looking scandalized while Ron was doing a very bad job at stifling his laughter.  


Hermione shot Harry a look that plainly said  _ “did you know about this and if you did why in Merlin’s name did you not tell us.”  _ Harry could only shake his head. He’d had no idea.  


The rest of the class, after seeing that the dog was not about to attack, warily settled down. The background noise in the classroom turned to curious murmuring.  


Then the dog barked twice and shimmered into Sirius, who was still sitting on the desk.  


“Welcome, eighth-years, to NEWT-level Transfiguration!” Sirius proclaimed, gesturing grandly at the blank chalkboard behind him.  


The chalkboard produced the words “Animagus transformation” followed by a cheeky “;)”  


Harry sat stock-still, and had never been more glad of being seated at a desk. Sirius had his shaggy, shoulder-length black hair haphazardly gathered into a ponytail, and had seemingly neglected to shave this morning, judging by the stubble on his jaw.  


Harry swallowed, and guiltily let his gaze wander. Sirius wore a soft grey Weird Sisters t-shirt that seemed designed to show off collarbones underneath an  _ honest-to-god black leather motorcycle jacket. _ He was also wearing a pair of black jeans that were entirely too tight for Harry’s sanity.  


Harry wasn’t the only one to notice, judging by the appreciative murmurs and quiet giggling of the girls who had returned eagerly to the first row after Sirius had resumed his human form.  


“Since Professor McGonagall has a whole school to run now, she was needing someone well-versed and highly-skilled in Transfiguration to be her successor,” Sirius said. “Unfortunately, her only option left was me.” He winked at them.  


That startled a fair few laughs from the class.  


“Some of you already know me,”—at this, he looked directly at Harry— “but my name is Sirius Black”—and that elicited some shocked gasps— “and I suppose I’ll be teaching you how to make things turn into other things.” He paused. “Well big things turning into other big things.”  


That got even more laughter from the class. Sirius caught Harry’s eye and gave him a secret smile that should’ve been illegal. Harry’s heart felt like it stopped cold before beginning to pound so fast he was sure it echoed all over the castle.  


He was absolutely not going to survive Eighth Year. 


End file.
